Perceived Insanity

Don't Conform

Nayona sat on the curb, shivering. At fifteen, most girls were finishing their secondary education and applying to one of the hundreds of 'extremely prestigious and well-known' universities in their wonderful country. They began to dream about and plan their future lives, to build stronger friendships. Everyone, actually, except for Nayona. Nayona had always been on the outside of things, ever since that day in third grade. Some days Nayona wished that fateful day had never happened. But she would not ever try to change its results, no matter how much they hurt her, because to do so would go against what she valued most.

Seven years ago, an eight year old had entered her third grade classroom, smiling and laughing with her two best friends. She had hung her red raincoat on her hook, then skipped to her desk. Her friends followed her, chattering happily. Everything was so wonderful! She opened her blue school notebook, looking for the daily writing prompt. Just like she did every morning, she wrote eagerly. When she had almost filled the entire page, she turned to talk to her friends. They compared answers, finding they disagreed. They had never disagreed before. The girls walked up to their teacher, to ask which one of them had written the right answer. The teacher read each one, frowning when she came to the last one.

"Nayona, your friends are correct. The prompt asks how we can determine what truth is. You wrote, incorrectly, that truth can be searched for and found with careful attention to the world around us. Your friends wrote the correct answer, which is that each one of us must determine what set of 'truths' makes us happiest. Everything is about the happiness of the individual, do you see? If we are all happy, how can there ever be any problems?" the teacher asked, trying to make sure her best student would not be in danger of probation at such a young age.

Any child that failed the yearly Principles of Life exam administered by the government would be placed on probation. The exam tested how well a child had learned to conform to certain societal standards. Supposedly, these standards contributed to an inclusive community where everyone was entitled to their own opinion, and to their own actions. A child was expected to show a minimum of an 80% ability to conform to societal standards taught in their grade level and below. Any child who did not 'pass' the test would be placed on probation. If they said or did anything that indicated a lack of ability to conform, the child would be sent to a special school to be retaught right from wrong. Or rather, to be brainwashed with the information that right from wrong doesn't exist, except to the extent that one must not show contempt for, or do anything physically harmful to those around them.

Nayona had been placed on probation that year. Then she had been sent to the special school. When she had refused to conform, her parents were told to abandon her. If they did not, they would be arrested. So she was left to fend for herself. She lived for many years in a garbage dump, where she found a large waxed cardboard box to shelter her from the weather at night and a blanket. Every once in awhile, someone would throw their old clothes away and Nayona would save them. She sorted trash to stay alive. A green banana with a brown spot could be eaten. That string could be used to sew those rags into a skirt. That magazine could be used to learn more about the world around her. She had learned to be very resourceful.

On February fifteenth, however, Nayona was not sorting trash. She was not hiding from the bitter cold in her cardboard box, either. She was sitting on the curb outside the government building, waiting for the yearly exam. She had decided to try again. She had no reason to. But her garbage dump would not provide a very satisfactory adulthood.

A man stood inside the building, watching her. He, too, was waiting. He was waiting for her. Many years ago, he had watched her leave the building as an outcast to society. Now he was gratefully watching her return. If only this time, she would pass the test, everything that had gone wrong could be fixed. He fingered his own thick coat and warm sweater, pitying her. She had a shirt of rags on. He looked down at his warm boots, then glanced at her worn, filthy tennis shoes. He shook his head. Why hadn't she avoided such a miserable life as hers must be? How difficult could it be to conform?

Outside, Nayona asked herself the same questions. She had placed so much value in her beliefs. She did not hold anyone else's beliefs against them. On the contrary, she respected those who believed differently from her and stuck to their beliefs more than those around her who pretended to agree with her and turned away as soon as anything threatened what really mattered to them. And Nayona could respect other people's beliefs as exactly that: what other people believed. But she would never, ever say or do anything to go against her beliefs if she could help it. She did not think truth depended on the one searching for it. She was sure a truth existed. She would not dare to tell others she thought otherwise. If she did, she risked her own credibility.

But maybe, it would be okay to compromise everything she stood for once. Just once, so she could be accepted in society again. It would remain to be seen.